Out of Darkness
by waiting-to-bloom
Summary: Pre 6.1 - Sam was pulled out of that hole away from Lucifer without any explanation or reason.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: It's like a little bit of fiction. Should I continue?

Supernatural

OUT OF DARKNESS:

When he had fallen, the ground had caved downward, yawning open into one giant, impossibly deep hole. There was howling wind and Micheal's guttural scream ripping out of Adam's voice. Sam remembered plummeting and feeling that horrifying, impossible to calm, rush of panic as the wind whistled and pushed against him. He had watched that last of earth's light become a rapidly diminishing ray, until it too blinked away in the all encompassing darkness of the vast and yet confining hole.

He had felt Lucifer's anger in that deep darkness. That overriding despair and fear and pain that ripped through him could not be explained. Could not be understood by anyone.

It was hell and he would remember that too. Impossible to forget, it settled in his bones cold and terrifying where he knew that chill would last until his flesh decayed.

Sam remembered. Sam would not forget. And he was certain that that time would last forever. It would be his infinity. And yet somehow, impossibly, it had ended. There were no answers, just a sudden, unexplained flash of white light and then, well, then freedom.

Gawd, the earth, he had read somewhere that all the solar system was there just to support this tiny little planet. He believed it. It was so beautiful, so right. His face was in the grass and dirt, and he was gasping in the air like it wouldn't last. He was cold, filled with pain, exhaustion, and yet he was smiling.

Sam was raised back to earth on an overcast Tuesday at 11:18 AM without any reasons or explanation. He had lied on Lucifer's grave for half the day, hoping that this renewed life wasn't the dream of a dead man.

When reality remained and the day had turned to night he had rolled to his knees and wept.

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	2. Chapter 2

Supernatural

OUT OF DARKNESS: CHAPTER 2

It was raining. Mingling with the drops on his face, plastering his hair, longer than before, flat to his skull. The cemetery's long grass lied flat in the heavy rain; the sky above was a swirling mess of clouds and streaks of shadows. A strike of lightening flickered and Sam, finally snapping out of whatever daze he was in, jumped. He was wet, and cold, and couldn't think of a place to go. Bobby was dead. Dean, well at least he hoped Dean was living with Lisa and Ben. And Adam, his brother, his presence was a question Sam could not answer. Adam wasn't here, and that probably meant that it was only him who was freed. Free yes, but why? Why him, of all people, seriously. Sam Winchester, Lucifer's vessel.

It didn't make sense.

He could think of no one who would come for him. Hell couldn't, and certainly heaven wouldn't even try. And Dean? Please no, he better not have done anything stupid, he had promised to leave it alone. He was supposed to live normal.

Sam stood, legs shaking and his arms crossed, trying to fight off the cold that was more than just the steady rain. He felt delirious and blurry eyed, but this was an improvement to before. He trudged and stumbled, and wondered if this was how Dean had felt when Cas had pulled him out of hell. Cas. Maybe it _was _an angel who dragged him out. He didn't feel a handprint seared into his flesh, but that didn't mean it was impossible. Maybe, God did care. That was a kind of hope he didn't want to rekindle. He would check once he found a mirror, once he was out of this rain, but he didn't place much hope in it.

If there was anything Sam had learned, especially in his time spent in the hole, it was how to push his body passed all limits. And so he walked on through the rain, feeling the remaining sting of aches and pains with each step and tried to reason what to do. That indelibly brought his mind back to his brother. It didn't take much these days for that to happen. Last he had seen Dean, his face was a bloody mass, his expression…tortured. Sam knew that it was Lucifer who was doing the punching, but it still felt like him. It had been his fist. But, god, that felt like centuries ago. A hazy, nightmare. He remembered hell clearer. The squelching of mud beneath of his feet reminded him that was behind him to. He was alive. And with a renewed perspective he suddenly decided he would see Dean. He had to make sure his brother wasn't the reason behind this and that he was okay. Beyond that, well, Sam wasn't sure. Find what pulled him out of hell, he guessed. Somewhere to sleep though, first. Yes, sleep. God knows it's been a long while since he has done that.

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	3. Chapter 3

Supernatural

OUT OF DARKNESS: CHAPTER 3

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Why wouldn't the rain stop? He had been walking for miles, finally seeing a light in the distance. Sam knew that had to be a mark of civilization, and so he followed it, watching as the hazy shape slowly became more pronounced. A gas station. And it looked to be open. Small miracles. One step at a time, he thought. His feet pounded on the wet cement, shoes soaked through and socks wet.

A little bell rang as he opened the door. Sam stomped his feet on the welcome mat that read 'Hi, I'm Mat' and savored a moment the chance to be out of the rain.

"Isn't the weather a little bad for a walk?"

And that was it. The first sentence to greet him back to earth. Sam's eyes slowly found their way to the cashier at the front of the store. He was a heavier set man, dark hair, and silver mustache. He looked concerned, Sam wasn't sure if it was because he looked like a criminal or if he looked as bad as he felt.

He ignored the question. "Bathroom?" he managed to push out through his ragged throat. And yeah, his first word. He would try not to mark the occasion. The man pointed to the sign that said restrooms hanging just past an isle of candy bars and overpriced bubblegum.

Sam vaguely nodded his thanks, and stepped slowly in that direction. The bathroom was not clean by any sane home owner's standards, but it was looking pretty good to him. He twisted on the faucet, ignoring the mirror that hung over the sink as best as possible, and cold water splashed out. Sam cupped some in his hands and gulped down a few handfuls. The water did a little to ease his parched throat. He turned off the faucet, then with hesitation glanced up at his reflection in the mirror.

It was like what had happened with Dean. Not a mark on him. He shrugged off the soaked jacket and pulled up his shirt. There was that small bubble of hope, just before he searched his torso, that maybe that handprint would be on him too. It wasn't, he double checked to be sure. But there was nothing, he only looked thinner, frailer. Pale and sunken, his pants hanging loosely on his hips. He tried not to focus too much on his eyes, they looked dead. A shell of what Sam Winchester used to be staring back at him. The hope he didn't want to voice collapsed inside him. He clutched his head. God. Why? What was he doing here? His wet head hit the bathroom mirror.

_Cas_, he prayed_, Castiel, please, if you can hear me, it's Sam, Sam Winchester. I'm…back. I don't know why. Please Cas? Are you there? _

His waiting was answered with silence. Maybe he wasn't doing it right. Maybe Cas didn't make it, he couldn't remember right. His time as Lucifer's vessel was mostly patchy memories. Flashes of moments. He remembered Bobby dying, did Cas? He couldn't remember. Oh god why couldn't he remember!

He clasped his hands in the manner he remembered Pastor Jim doing when he went to pray. _God? I'm sorry, I- _but he didn't know what else to say. There was no reason for God to listen to him. He was the lowest of low, he was Lucifer's _puppet_. A puppet without strings. He deserved what he had, he deserved it, but for some reason someone brought him back.

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End file.
